Reinventing Jarrod Barkley
by Vol lady
Summary: Follows Home from the Dead. Still unable to remember his past, Jarrod continues to rebuild his life and his career, again complicated by an old enemy - but this one isn't out to get him. This one needs his help.
1. Chapter 1

Reinventing Jarrod Barkley

Chapter 1

It was a moonless night. The only real ambient light came from the house. Jarrod Barkley looked at his shadow, casting itself long into the yard. He lifted his arm and took a puff on his cigar, and so did his shadow _. Jarrod Barkley's shadow_ , he thought. _I'm Jarrod Barkley_.

"What are you thinking about?" his mother's voice came from behind him.

Jarrod smiled. "Oh, just thinking about how much my life has turned around in the past couple weeks."

"For the better, I hope," Victoria said.

"Oh, yes," Jarrod said quickly. "It's taking some getting used to, but I've been nobody and now I'm somebody. I like being somebody better."

"How are you feeling?"

He was still recovering from a bullet wound, given to him by a man he'd prosecuted once and sent to prison. He said to his brother Nick that he'd been shot in the side for something he couldn't even remember how to do. "I've still got the feel of the stitches in there if I turn a certain way, but it's coming along."

He'd been confined to the ranch for more than two weeks now. He didn't like it. He wondered if he was always so uncomfortable being stuck in one place, or if that was something that came with his amnesia. His permanent amnesia.

He wasn't remembering anything at all that was more than a year old, since the day he was knocked off his horse and came to not knowing who he was. He used to think he would see something or hear something and suddenly all his memories would come back. That never happened. It wasn't going to happen. He had to face it – he was stuck with a permanently damaged brain.

"That's an unhappy face," Victoria said.

He didn't realize his feelings were showing. "Just sorry my memory isn't returning. It would be nice to know how I did what I did to get shot for."

"I saw you looking through some of these legal books today. That doesn't help?"

"No. I've been doing that now and then since I got here, but they don't mean anything to me. Except that for some reason, I seem to be able to translate the Latin – like on the one set of books, 'Corpus Juris.' For some reason, I know it means 'body of law.' I have absolutely no idea why I can translate Latin but I can't remember my middle name."

"Thomas. Haven't we told you that?"

"I haven't asked. Thomas, huh?"

"Your father's first name. We disagreed on whether to have a junior running around, so we compromised on having his name be your middle name."

"Jarrod Thomas Barkley. Sounds very staid, doesn't it. Very proper. Nothing like Dakota."

Victoria felt a little sad at the way he said that. "Do you want to go back to being Dakota?"

"No, 'Dakota Barkley' just doesn't sound right at all. I'll stick with Jarrod Thomas. Now, all I have to do is fill in the blanks as to who Jarrod Thomas Barkley really is."

"He's a fine man, a trustworthy man, and an excellent lawyer."

"He might have been an excellent lawyer once, but he isn't anymore. Those legal books mean nothing to me, Mother, even if I can translate the titles. And I'm far too old to begin studying law again."

Victoria had a question she'd wanted to ask since Jarrod began to feel stronger. "Have you talked to Dr. Merar about your amnesia?"

"A bit," Jarrod said. "He knows I have it. He told me there was nothing that can be done for it. I just have to wait and see if my memory comes back on its own."

"I just wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"Your life has been in the courtroom. It was almost more home to you that this house was, or your home in San Francisco. I just wonder if anything might come back to you if you went to court and watched a trial, talked to some of the lawyers around town. Something might come back."

Jarrod thought about it, doubted it, but then shrugged. "I don't suppose it could hurt."

"Dr. Merar will be here tomorrow to check your wound and see how it's doing. It might pay for you to ask him when you can ride again and when you can go into town and see a trial."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't think seeing a trial would bring his memory back. She wanted so badly to help. "I'll ask him."

XXXXXXXXX

Early the next morning, Dr. Merar had Jarrod lie down on his bed, and he removed the patch of bandage now covering just the wound. "That's looking good," he said. "Let's remove those stitches."

Jarrod took a deep breath. "If it'll get me back in the saddle faster, by all means, take them out."

"Well, we'll see about the saddle after I take them out."

The doctor got small scissors and tweezers out of his bag. He also pulled out a clean cloth and a small bottle of alcohol. He cleaned the wound, sending a searing intake of breath through his patient.

"Sorry," Dr. Merar said.

"It's all right," Jarrod said.

Dr. Merar folded the cloth, gave it some more alcohol and put it on the night table. Then he disinfected the scissors and tweezers in the alcohol and laid them on the cloth. "All right, here goes," he said and picked up the scissors.

Jarrod stared at the ceiling as the doctor worked. "I want to ask you about something."

"Sure," Dr. Merar said and took the tiny stitches out, bit by bit.

Jarrod felt it, although he couldn't say it actually hurt. "About my amnesia."

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

Jarrod waited a moment until the doctor was finished removing the stitches with the tweezers. Then he asked, "How does it look?"

"Looks good," Dr. Merar said and palpated Jarrod's abdomen around the wound. "How does it feel? Any pain?"

"No, just an itchy feeling where you took out the stitches."

"Itchy is all right. What do you want to ask me about your amnesia?"

Jarrod let out a breath he'd been holding. "My mother wonders if it might help if I go to court and watch a trial. Since I spent so much of my life in court, she thought it might mean more to me than the house here."

"Well, knowing you as I do, she's probably right, but I don't know if it will be of any help in getting your memory to come back," the doctor said, wrapping his instruments in the cloth and putting everything back in his bag. Then he sat up straight and looked his patient in the eye. "It's worth a try, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. It's quite likely you have had damage to the brain, despite what the doctor in Rockville told you. Sometimes that heals, sometimes it doesn't. The brain is a funny thing."

"Is it all right if I sit up now?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, go ahead, tell me if you have pain."

Jarrod sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "A little sticking feeling, but no real pain."

"Let me check it again." Dr. Merar palpated Jarrod's abdomen again while he was sitting up. "No, feels fine. Just a little residual pain. Ought to go away in a few days."

"So, basically you don't think it will hurt to go watch a trial, but you don't know if it will help," Jarrod said.

"I'll add one caveat to that," Dr. Merar said. "You could find yourself facing some emotional issues if you watch a trial, such as frustration because your memory doesn't return, or if it just starts tickling around the edge of your mind without giving you any real memories. I'd take someone with you, just in case you find yourself twisted up in emotional knots."

Jarrod nodded. "When can I ride?"

"Give it another week, just to be sure, and don't plan on breaking any horses for four to six weeks. You're not ready for that kind of pounding."

Jarrod nodded again. "How much do I owe you?"

Dr. Merar laughed. "You ask me that every time, and every time I just put it on the Barkley bill."

Jarrod laughed at himself. "For some reason, charging things that someone else will pay for has been one of the toughest things for me to get used to."

"Oh, you pay for it all right, Jarrod," Dr. Merar said. "It's just Nick who signs the check."

"Well, as soon as we get to the bank, I'm the one who'll be signing the checks from now on."

"Ah, good," the doctor said. "Work is one of the best medicines there is, even if it is just keeping the books."

Jarrod got up, and he and the doctor walked downstairs together. Victoria and Audra were in the living room, working on some needlework. They both got up and met the men in the foyer.

"How is he doing?" Victoria asked.

"Almost good as new," the doctor said. "He can ride a horse next week, but no breaking any and no heavy work for four to six weeks. I took the stitches out, so you won't be seeing me anymore until somebody around here has another mishap."

They all walked the doctor to the door. Victoria and Jarrod both thanked him, and after closing the door, they all went into the living room.

"I think we can head to the bank next week," Jarrod said.

Victoria and Audra both stopped and looked at him, expectantly.

He smiled. "Yes, we can put that account in my name, and we'll need to put my signature on the ranch accounts so I can pay the bills."

"Oh, Jarrod," Victoria said and hugged him. It meant more to her than she could express, because those two simple acts meant he really was home to stay.

Audra smiled. "Nick will be as happy as a clam when you tell him."

"Shall we tell him tonight, or make him suffer a while longer?" Jarrod asked.

"You're turning into a big brother in a hurry," Victoria smiled.

"I plan to enjoy it, too," Jarrod said.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was the next week when Jarrod, Victoria and Audra rode into town together on the surrey. Jarrod and Victoria left Audra off at the orphanage so she could help the children with their reading lesson. Then, they went to the bank.

The bank manager was so pleased to be putting Jarrod's name on the private account his family had put his assets in when he was missing, that he almost wanted to frame the bank's copy and hang it on the wall. When Jarrod put his signature on the ranch's accounts, the bank manager nearly cried with happiness.

Jarrod had to laugh – and then he caught his breath when he saw how much was in his personal account. "I'm worth this much? I don't believe it."

Victoria said, "Believe it. You had a very successful law practice. You built it up over the years and became one of the most respected lawyers around. You were well known at the legislature, too – although they didn't always like the laws you were trying to get passed."

Jarrod shook his head. "I had no idea. I never dreamed – I just never even considered – "

The words wouldn't come. Victoria saw that he was truly shaken, by the bank account or by something more. She took him by the arm. "Don't worry. No one is expecting you to live up to the Jarrod Barkley who was. We all know you have to rebuild, and who this next Jarrod Barkley will be – he'll be mostly the man you choose him to be."

Jarrod looked very confused for a moment. He just stood there, looking at his bank statement, too stunned to speak.

Victoria led him out into the sunshine and they stopped together near the surrey. Jarrod put his bank statement into his pocket, taking a deep breath as he did.

"What are you thinking?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod didn't look at her as he said, "Right this moment I feel like I have no idea who I am. I mean, I'm clearly not Dakota anymore, but this Jarrod Barkley – the one who built up this bank account, the one you told me tried to get laws passed –" He shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Victoria said. "I didn't realize how much you were still hurting."

Jarrod looked at her. "Hurting isn't the right word. When I was Dakota – I was just lost. I had no sense at all of who I was or where I belonged. Over time, I made Dakota into someone who was actually a man who had some sense of being real, but now, I feel a bit lost again. I'm not Dakota anymore, but I'm not this Jarrod Barkley fellow either." He smiled an awkward smile. "Right this moment, I'm not really sure who I am."

Victoria squeezed his arm. "Keep looking at me."

Jarrod looked at her and did not look away.

"Don't let Jarrod Barkley intimidate you. Yes, you were that man who built up a successful law practice and worked with the legislature and yes, was even on a first name basis with the governor. But that was only part of who Jarrod Barkley was. Down deep, at the foundation, Jarrod Barkley was a fine man and a fine son, a man who could be trusted and a man his family loved. You're still that man."

Jarrod listened, but then he said, "Is he enough for you, or do you want the rest of him back, too? Are you sure you don't want me to go to court and see a trial so that this other Jarrod Barkley comes back to you too?"

"What I want doesn't matter," Victoria said. "You built that other Jarrod Barkley because that was who you wanted to be at the time, and we all encouraged you and supported you. That won't change. You are reinventing Jarrod Barkley now, and doing that is a unique opportunity that almost no one ever gets – to remake himself in the image he sees now. Please know that you're doing that with our love and support, and if you never set foot in a courtroom or the legislature again, it won't make any difference to your family. Rebuild Jarrod Barkley to your own liking – be a lawyer or a cowboy - and we will love you as much as we ever did."

Jarrod was nearly moved to tears. He took his mother into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, Mother. I think that's what I needed to hear."

"I need to go to the mercantile," Victoria said. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee first?"

"No," Jarrod said. "I think I'd like to pay a quick visit to the courthouse."

Victoria was surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Just a visit to the office there, find out what's going on, nothing big. Just to get my feet wet, see if I like the temperature of the water." He smiled.

Victoria squeezed his arm, and in a few minutes, they walked into the courthouse door.

XXXXXXX

"Court will be in session again next Tuesday," the court clerk told them. "We've got an assault case coming to trial – jury trial, if you want to see the whole shebang, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod took a deep breath to steady himself. He was still a bit unsettled from the visit to the bank – or was it because he was actually here in the courthouse again, right after that discussion with his mother? "I'll come in and see how things go," he said. "I have to ask – do I know you?"

The clerk smiled sympathetically. "Yes, sir, you do, but I understand you have some memory problems. We've known each other for five years, ever since I became the court clerk. My name is David Franks." He extended his hand.

Jarrod took it. "Thanks for bearing with me. I suppose I contributed a bit to your workload."

"Yes, there's a lot of paper around here with your signature," Franks said. "I don't know if you're ready to resume your practice, but it is awfully good to have you back."

"No, I'm not ready to resume my practice, but I'm glad to be back nonetheless. And I might see you next Tuesday."

Jarrod and Victoria left then. As soon as they were out of the courthouse, Victoria saw him visibly relax. "I'm sorry that made you so nervous."

Jarrod smiled. "Just a reaction. It kind of washed over me when we went through the door, maybe – I don't know. Maybe you were right and I'm letting the old Jarrod Barkley intimidate me. I can't say I'm sorry court's not in session today."

"Well, you have a few days to get used to the idea of seeing a trial. Would you like me to come with you?"

"If you don't mind, I think I'll talk to Nick and Heath about that, see if one of them will come with me – if I decide to come." Then he shook his head and let an embarrassed breath out. He smiled. "Oh, Mother, this reinventing Jarrod Barkley is a nerve-wracking task. My head is doing some fancy swimming today."

"Well," Victoria said, grasping at a few straws herself now, "New things make us nervous, and you've had nothing but new things thrown at you the past few weeks. Just try not to be nervous about being nervous."

Jarrod smiled at her. "You're a very wise lady, you know that? A very wise and a very lovely lady."

Victoria stopped, nearly choking.

"What is it?" Jarrod asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she said with a smile but actually began to tremble. "It's just – that's what you used to call me, 'Lovely Lady.' I thought I'd never hear you say it again."

Jarrod kissed her on the forehead to head off the tears, but a few escaped anyway. Jarrod wiped them away for her. "Well, now that I know about it, I'll say it more often, Lovely Lady. Have a cup of coffee with me?"

Victoria nodded. "The Stockton House café will be open."

XXXXX

After having coffee, Victoria and Jarrod went to the mercantile. There were no other customers there, and the clerk had plenty of time for them. Jarrod looked around idly while Victoria told the clerk why they were there. He went into the back, and soon he came out with a fine walnut box, about four by eight inches and three inches deep. Curious, Jarrod rejoined his mother and was there as the clerk opened the box for them.

"Wow," Jarrod said.

Victoria chuckled. "Pick it up. Tell me how it feels."

Jarrod took the beautiful bone-handled revolver out of its case and immediately checked to see it wasn't loaded. Then he felt it in his hand, felt the weight and the balance. It was a movement that was part second nature, part learned as Dakota bought his first handgun, the one Jarrod still carried. But this handgun – this was a much more finely-tuned instrument than that plain, wood-handled gun.

"You're not planning to carry this around, are you?" Jarrod asked.

Victoria laughed. "No, this is not for me. Nick has a birthday coming up. I ordered this a couple weeks ago."

"A company in San Francisco makes these," the clerk said. "They make beautiful handguns, nothing else. I don't get too many orders for the bone handle, though. What do you think?"

"It feels very comfortable in the hand," Jarrod said. "Kind of surprising, given that it's bone. Forty-five caliber?"

"Yes. What's that you're carrying?"

Jarrod put the bone-handled gun back in the box and took his own gun out of its holster. Quickly, he unloaded it and handed it to the clerk. "Nothing special. Cheapest thing I could find – I didn't have a lot of money at the time."

The clerk smiled. "I've heard you had quite a story to tell over the past year," the clerk said, felt Jarrod's gun in his hand, and then gave it back.

Jarrod reloaded his gun and put it back in its holster. "I've had a bit of a different life, that's for sure."

"Well, it's good to have you home again, Mr. Barkley. If you want to buy a better gun, make sure you come see me."

"I'll put it on my list of things to do," Jarrod said.

Jarrod nosed around the store some more as Victoria paid for the handgun and the clerk wrapped it in brown paper. "Thanks for going along with keeping this on the QT," she said quietly to the clerk.

"My pleasure," he said, just as quietly and nodded toward Jarrod, who was looking at a rain poncho.

Victoria noticed that Jarrod had become far more utilitarian over the last year. Even when they were buying clothes for him when he first came home, he was far more interested in the practical aspects of a wardrobe – how heavy-duty the cloth was for the price and so forth - than he was about the appearance of what he would wear. Now he was looking at a rain poncho, of all things, and he was looking at one that was not the best, but also not the worst fabric in the stack.

"I think I need one of these," Jarrod said. "How much?"

The clerk gave him the price.

Jarrod shrugged and looked at a cheaper one.

"Jarrod," Victoria said, "you can afford the better one."

Jarrod looked surprised, and then he remembered how much money was in his personal account. "I forgot," he said with a laugh, kind of glad he had forgotten, and then he brought the first poncho over to the clerk. "Wrap it up."

"Shall I start a running tab for you, Mr. Barkley? You can charge things and I'll bill you once a month."

Jarrod nodded. "I suppose so. If I'm going to reinvent Jarrod Barkley, I better put some of the original in there, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Audra climbed into the surrey's back seat when her mother and brother picked her up at the orphanage. She saw the two packages in the back seat with her. "Oh, what are these?"

"A rain poncho I bought for myself, and a birthday present Mother bought for Nick," Jarrod said.

"For Nick?" Audra said, and before she could say another word her mother turned in the front seat and gave her a look that warned her to be very careful.

"Oh," Audra said cautiously. "What is it?"

"A nice bone-handled 45," Jarrod said.

Audra smiled, and Victoria turned around again. "Well, I guess it's a secret then," Audra said.

"Very much so," Victoria said.

When they arrived home, Ciego took charge of the surrey while Jarrod carried the packages into the house. It was only midday, so Jarrod was a bit surprised to see Nick and Heath at the house. "What brings you two in so early?" he asked.

"Lunch," Nick said flatly.

Heath shrugged. "Nick got hungry."

"I'll take that," Victoria said and took the package containing the handgun from Jarrod. Very unobtrusively, she carried it toward the kitchen.

"Whatcha got there?" Nick asked about the package Jarrod still held.

"Well, since we went to the bank and I discovered I was far wealthier than my wildest dreams, I bought myself a new rain poncho," Jarrod said.

"New rain poncho, huh? I guess I can have my old one back now?" Nick said.

Jarrod had been borrowing one Nick used to use but replaced a few months back. "If you want it. It does have holes."

"Just like me," Nick said with a grin.

Jarrod put the package down on the table in the foyer, and then he took his gunbelt and hat off and hung them in the hall. He noticed a nice scent in the house. "Smells like Silas has been getting fancy in the kitchen."

"No more than usual," Heath said. "That's the reason Nick likes coming in for lunch when he's really hungry. Silas cooks better than Old Jube at the chuck wagon."

"Silas cooks better than practically anyone," Jarrod said. "At least to my limited experience."

Victoria returned, saying, "Lunch is ready."

"Oh, good, I'm starving, too," Audra said.

They went into the dining room together, and Jarrod was somewhat astonished to see that in addition to a large spread of chicken and dumplings, vegetables and coffee on the table, there was a cake in the middle of the table. Silas stood by, looking very, very happy.

"What's the occasion – " Jarrod started and then saw the writing on the cake.

 _Happy Birthday_ _Jarrod_

"What?" Jarrod asked, confused.

"Today is your birthday, Jarrod," Victoria said. "We thought you probably didn't remember, so we planned what is probably the only birthday party where the guest of honor really is surprised."

Jarrod laughed. "Well, you got that right. My birthday is today, really?"

"Really," Audra said and kissed him. "Happy Birthday, Big Brother."

"Thirty-four," Heath reminded him.

His brothers each shook his hand, and then he happened to notice the box at his place at the table. The walnut box from the mercantile. "Oh – " he said, at a loss for words, and he opened it and saw, of course, the bone-handled gun. "It never occurred to me that this was for me."

"Well, it's a little more 'for you' than you think," Nick said. "This is actually your gun."

"What?" Jarrod asked.

"When we got to Rockville, all we found was your horse and some of your personal possessions," Heath said. "This was among them. This is the gun you always used to carry."

Jarrod picked it up with what came close to reverence as Nick said, "I gave it to you when you turned 16. I was about to be 12. After we thought we'd lost you last year, I didn't have the heart to sell it until about a week before you came to the front door last month. I had Audra give the money I got for it to the orphanage, in your name, but when you turned up, I went back to the mercantile and bought it back. I had Abel hold onto it until today. I'm glad it's back where it belongs, Pappy."

Jarrod couldn't recall ever feeling so special in his life. He put his arm around his brother in a half bear hug. "Thank you, Nick. It's a fine weapon. I'll have to work with it a bit today and get used to it again."

"We have other things for you," Audra said, went into the kitchen, and then came back out with three boxes.

Smiling awkwardly, Jarrod opened each one – a fine new holster from Heath, a silk Eastern-style necktie from Audra, a leather-bound blank journal from Victoria. Overwhelmed, Jarrod just shook his head. "You know, this is the first birthday party I can remember having, and for all intents and purposes, these are the first gifts of any kind I ever received. Thank you all, thank you very much."

"Well, now let's eat and get to the cake," Nick said.

Jarrod grinned at his mother. "Why do I find myself thinking this is not the first time Nick has ever said those words?"

XXXXX

Nick set six empty tin cans on top of the fence that was closest to the hill behind the barn and came back to where his two brothers stood. It was a spot where they usually practiced target shooting – or took on each other at it, because there was no real chance anyone would get hurt out here. Jarrod stood with his new – actually, old – handgun in his new holster at his side, facing the row of tin cans.

Neither Nick nor Heath had really noticed before, but they both suddenly did now. Jarrod was wearing his holster tied down to his thigh, like the two of them wore theirs. Jarrod Barkley never did that. It was more the way a man who thought he was going to be needing that gun fast would wear it. Jarrod was never that kind of man. Apparently, Dakota was.

"Let's see how it feels, Jarrod," Nick said.

And almost before he got all the words out, Jarrod drew and fired. In seconds, four of the six cans were shot away.

Nick and Heath looked at each other. Jarrod was never that fast before, or that accurate.

Jarrod holstered the gun. "Hey, this has a really nice balance to it. You say you gave it to me when you were 12, Nick?"

"Yeah," Nick said, still a bit surprised that Jarrod was that fast, and that he seemed perfectly comfortable about it. "Uh – Father picked it out, I just paid for it out of money I earned doing some odd jobs around here and there. And, to be honest, I bought it for you so you'd hand me down the weapon you were carrying at the time."

Jarrod chuckled, took the gun out of its holster, emptied the brass and reloaded it. "Mercenary little kid, weren't you?"

"Something like that," Nick said. "Say, Heath, set those cans up three and three. What say you and I have a little contest, Jarrod? Whoever takes down his three first wins."

"What do I win?" Jarrod asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

Nick gave a bit of a laugh that said what his next words said. "You don't really think you're gonna outshoot me, do you?"

"I really do," Jarrod said.

Heath put the cans up and came back beside them. Nick and Jarrod both got ready to draw and fire. Heath said, "On three." And then, very rapidly, he said, "One, two, three!"

His brothers drew and fired at almost exactly the same time, and Jarrod took his three cans out in a heartbeat. But Nick missed his third can and had to take another shot to down it. Heath shook his head. "He's got you beat, Nick."

"How did you do that?" Nick asked, incredulous.

Jarrod laughed. "I got three shots left, Nick. You have two. Care to toss a few rocks? If you hit your two, but I fail to hit all three of mine, you win."

"What do I win?" Nick asked.

"Bragging rights," Jarrod laughed.

Heath picked up a few rocks about the size of a small potato. "All right. Nick first. Here's one – " Heath tossed it up.

Nick drew, fired and hit it. He did the same thing with his second rock.

"Okay, Jarrod," Heath said. "Here's one – "

Jarrod drew, fired and hit it. Then he did the same thing with the next two.

Nick grumbled as he emptied his brass and reloaded. "I don't believe it. What have you been doing this past year? Sidelining as a hired gun?"

"No," Jarrod said, emptying his brass and reloading his own gun. Both he and Nick reholstered their pistols. "I just found out I needed to hone my skills pretty fast. Nobody ever told me I wasn't good at it, so I guess I thought I was."

Nick shook his head. "A lawyer outdraws and outshoots me. I may never live this down."

Jarrod laughed again. "Well, I won't tell anybody if Heath won't."

"I don't know," Heath said. "This may be too good not to tell."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"There's a penalty for losing that shootout, Nick," Jarrod said over drinks before dinner, after Heath had explained what happened.

"What's that?" Nick asked.

Jarrod poured himself some whiskey and turned back toward the family by the fireplace. "I'm planning to go into town on Tuesday and watch an assault trial in court."

"What are you gonna do that for?"

"Gotta feel it out, see if it's something that jogs my memory, or if it's something I want to see about doing again. I might not be able to be a lawyer, but there might be some kind of legal work I can do while I work back into it. I've thought about it a lot, and I want to watch a trial."

"So, where do I fit in?"

"I need a keeper."

"A keeper? What for?"

"Dr. Merar suggested it. Neither he nor I knows what to expect out of me when I see a trial. I might not handle it well, especially if it _doesn't_ stir any memories for me. And I don't think it will."

"Might be better if I went with you, Jarrod," Heath said.

"Why's that?" Jarrod asked.

Heath smiled at Nick. "Our brother here has a bad reputation in the court system. Seems like half the time he went in to see you at work, he'd yell out his own objections and they nearly had to throw him out."

Everyone laughed at Nick's expense. "Can't keep your temper to yourself, huh, Nick?" Jarrod asked.

"Let's just say the judge was about to start warning Nick to behave himself at the very beginning of the trial," Victoria said.

"That's an exaggeration," Nick said quickly. "But yeah, you probably ought to take Heath instead of me."

"Are you up for it?" Jarrod asked Heath.

"Sure," Heath said. "I don't yell nearly as much as Nick does."

"Don't forget to leave your sidearm at home," Nick said. "They don't let you take a gun into court."

"Thanks for reminding me," Jarrod said.

"What if it _does_ bring back some memories for you, Jarrod?" Audra asked. "I mean, it is possible."

Jarrod said, "Well, I might need Heath even more."

Jarrod seemed to go off into his own thoughts somewhere, and his face went dark for a moment. Nick and Victoria exchanged a look, and Nick raised his glass. "Well, I'm gonna propose a toast – to Big Brother, on his birthday. We're proud to have you home for this birthday, since you missed the last one – and we're proud you have the guts to go into that courtroom and take on whatever it brings. To Jarrod Barkley."

"To Jarrod," everyone said and drank up.

Jarrod smiled a bit, but the memories darkening his eyes were slow to fade. They were not memories from prior to a year ago. The memories coming into him were of being alone, asleep on the ground or in a bunkhouse somewhere, sometime in the past year. When he despaired of ever finding out where he belonged. Tonight, there was no despair. Tonight there was family, happy company, support. He let his smile grow. "Thank you," he said.

XXXXX

Jarrod looked at himself in the mirror and felt light-headed. Sure, he had tried on the suit when he had it made and it made him feel woozy then too, but now – now he had put it on for real. He was going to go out in public wearing it, a medium grey suit with a dress shirt and the silk Eastern-style necktie Audra had given him for his birthday. He had pulled on the dress boots, too, and now he was looking at himself in the mirror and feeling absolutely - strange.

That was the man in the photograph who was looking back at him. That was the old Jarrod Barkley, the one who wore suits and worked before the legislature and knew the governor. That was the Jarrod Barkley who intimidated him.

 _I'm not ready. I'm not ready._

He didn't hear the first knock on his door. He did hear the second one, and he turned away from the mirror. "Come in."

Heath came in. He, too, was wearing a suit, but Jarrod had seen him in it when they went to church. He himself had worn a more casual jacket and tie when he went to church. Until right now he really hadn't acknowledged to himself that he had been avoiding the suit.

For a moment he thought he could wear the same thing he wore to church to court. He was grabbing at straws trying to avoid wearing this suit.

"You look real good, Jarrod," Heath said. Then he saw his brother was sweating. "What's the matter?"

Jarrod took a deep breath and wanted to avoid the whole question, but he said, "I'm not ready for this."

"Ready for what?" Heath asked. "It's just sitting in the gallery and watching a trial. You don't have to do anything."

"Yes, I do," Jarrod said. "I have to be Jarrod Barkley."

Heath came closer. "I thought you were getting used to that by now."

"I thought I was, too, but this suit, going to court – that's more Jarrod Barkley than I think I'm ready to be."

Heath sighed. "You want to call it off?"

Jarrod hesitated and didn't know why. "I don't know. Yes – no, no, I don't want to call it off."

"We can wait a while. Nobody cares if you come in late."

Jarrod eyed his youngest brother. "They might care if Jarrod Barkley comes in late." He had nightmare visions of the judge stopping the proceedings to say hello to Jarrod Barkley, the old Jarrod Barkley.

Heath was beginning to understand. "You afraid of people expecting the old Jarrod Barkley when you can't remember how to be him?"

Jarrod was beginning to learn that Heath had a way of seeing right to the heart of a matter. "Something like that."

"And something like seeing the old Jarrod Barkley in the mirror in that suit."

Jarrod had to chuckle. "Something like that, too, I guess."

"Listen, Pappy, that's why I'm coming along," Heath said. "Things get to be too much, I'll get you out of there, but I'm betting they don't get to be too much. You're not gonna feel like the old Jarrod Barkley, and you're not gonna feel like you're being pressured to be him either, at least not for more than the first five minutes. You're still building the new Jarrod Barkley. Build him on your timetable, not anybody else's. But see if you can find a place for some of the old one in there. You need to go watch a trial in a courtroom and try to fetch back a little bit of the old one."

Jarrod still hesitated.

"Come on," Heath said. "Deep down, you know you want to see what this trial business is all about, don't you?"

Jarrod thought about it, and – "Yeah, you're right. I do."

"Well, then let's get going."

With a clap on his brother's arm, Heath headed for the door. Jarrod hesitated just a moment, but when Heath stopped at the door and looked at him, Jarrod thought, _Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. You have the clothes. Let's go to court._

XXXXX

Jarrod and Heath arrived at the courtroom as the lawyers and court personnel and other spectators were still milling around. At first, no one even looked Jarrod's way, and that thankfully gave him time to look around and get his bearings. He looked at all the people and didn't know a one of them. At first, they did not seem to notice him at all.

Heath found seats in the second row for them and motioned Jarrod that way. That was when heads began to turn.

It wasn't just the people in the gallery. The people on the other side of the rail were turning to look at him, too. They were the lawyers and the defendant and the court personnel, Jarrod figured. The man with the fellow who looked like the defendant (he was the only one not wearing a suit) turned toward Jarrod and Heath, and broke into a smile. He came from the other side of the rail, holding out his hand.

"Jarrod Barkley, I don't believe it!" he said as Jarrod took his hand. "I'm flabbergasted. I've heard of men coming back from the dead, but I never knew one who did, and I've never been happier to see one!"

Jarrod had no idea who the man was. "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. My memory's been damaged."

"And you don't know who I am," the man said. "I've heard the rumors you had lost your memory, and I'm really sorry to hear that. I'm Michael Quinn. We worked together on a couple cases when we were both starting out. The oily little guy over there is the Assistant District Attorney, Phil Archer."

Jarrod looked at the oily little guy, who looked at him briefly with no smile and no interest in approaching him. "Do I know him very well?"

"Too well," Quinn said. "He's been a thorn in your side for years, so don't be surprised if he has nothing to say to you. Be grateful."

Jarrod introduced his brother Heath and then asked, "Who's your client?"

"Poor guy in the wrong place at the wrong time, accused of assault. All these other men in here are mostly prospective jurors. As soon as the judge gets in here, we'll start picking a jury."

As if on cue, someone near the bench announced, "All rise!" Quinn gave Jarrod and Heath another smile and went back beyond the railing to be with his client.

And the judge came in. Jarrod saw his nameplate –Thomas Farnham– but it meant nothing to him. But apparently, he meant something to the judge, because the moment the judge saw him, he said, "Mr. Barkley – will you approach the bench?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jarrod felt like he was about to be arrested. Every set of eyes in the place was suddenly on him, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do. But Quinn held the gate open to him, and Jarrod went through and straight to the bench, where the judge still stood.

Judge Farnham reached a hand down toward Jarrod. Jarrod took it, trembling to beat the band.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Barkley," the judge said quietly. "I've heard about your situation and I understand you won't be practicing law, at least for a while, but I just wanted you to know that if you do return to my courtroom, I'll be very pleased to see you."

"Thank you, your honor. I'm just here to watch today," Jarrod said.

"It's a dull little case, I'm afraid," the judge said. "Do you want to be picked for the jury?"

"Oh, no," Jarrod said quickly. "I'm not ready for that. I'd be incompetent to be a juror."

The judge laughed. "Not hardly, Mr. Barkley, but I don't suspect we'll have any trouble seating a jury today. This will be a fast case and everybody knows it, just a quick dollar for anybody who serves on the jury. Go, have a seat, and feel free to come see me in chambers anytime if I can help you get readjusted to the legal community."

Jarrod didn't know what to say. He just said, "Thank you, your honor."

XXXXXXXX

The trial lasted all of four hours, and Jarrod left with his head spinning. He and Heath took lunch at the Stockton House, but he was so quiet Heath didn't think he ought to talk at all. Jarrod looked like he was considering everything he'd just seen, and he was having a hard time doing it.

But just before their food came, Jarrod finally said, "You know, when I was Dakota, I used to think that I might have escaped from prison."

Heath raised an eyebrow.

"I really did," Jarrod said. "It turns out that when you don't know who you are, you don't know _what_ you are either."

"Guess that might explain why you were a might shy about going to this trial today," Heath said.

Jarrod nodded. "Down deep, maybe I was afraid I'd get arrested while I was there." He chuckled. "Ridiculous."

"No, not really," Heath said. "I reckon I might have felt the same way in your shoes. But I think you can quit worrying about it now."

Jarrod nodded.

"That doesn't help you answer the big question, though, does it?" Heath asked. "Did it bring you any closer to deciding if you want to be a lawyer again or not?"

"No, it didn't," Jarrod said. "I know Mother would like me to be a lawyer again."

"Maybe, but she wouldn't want you to rush the decision. We'd all want you to be sure."

"That's gonna take some time," Jarrod said. "Making the decision, and then doing the work if I decide I want to get back into the law."

"You're the only one rushing you," Heath said. "Don't go rebuilding Jarrod Barkley too fast. Dakota might not like it."

Jarrod nodded. "You have a point."

As they left the Stockton House, Jarrod spotted the prosecutor from the trial across the street, and he stopped to watch him for a moment. Heath followed his gaze. "Phil Archer," Heath said.

"Yeah," Jarrod said. "What is it with him? Is he naturally that unpleasant, or is it just about me?"

"A little bit of both, I think," Heath said. "His career stalled at the Assistant DA level. You worked your way up from that years ago. If you're thinking about trying to make peace with the man, I wouldn't bother. He's probably downright happy you lost your memory."

"Looks like Jarrod Barkley made more enemies than Dakota did," Jarrod said.

"Jarrod Barkley had more time to do it in, and it just came with the job. If you hadn't made some enemies, you wouldn't have been doing your job very well."

Jarrod still ruminated on Phil Archer, all the way home. After he cleaned up and came down to join the family for drinks before dinner, he was still thinking about the man. He didn't even see he was pouring himself scotch instead of his new regular whiskey. Everyone else noticed and smiled. Jarrod still didn't notice as he came over, sipping his drink, and sat down in his "thinking chair."

"Phil Archer," he said.

"Ran into him today, did you?" Nick said.

"In court," Jarrod said. "Fill in my history with him for me, would you? Something about the man just made my skin crawl, and I know he has issues with me."

"Well, I think he makes everyone's skin crawl," Victoria said. "I think he's been jealous of you because he never made the career you made for yourself. I think it's really because he's always been so unpleasant he didn't make the friends he needed to make, but I also think he's blamed you."

"You took it to him in a few cases over the years, too," Audra said.

"How so?" Jarrod asked.

"You defended a few people he prosecuted and got them off," Heath said. "Including me."

Jarrod was surprised Heath hadn't mentioned that before now, and it showed.

Heath went on. "Archer was prosecuting me for killing a woman's husband. Her name was Liberty Keane and I'd known her before I came here. You proved it was Libby who did it. Archer didn't take kindly to you showing him up. I was awful glad you cleared me, but I'm afraid I was more concerned because Libby was killed trying to get away."

"I didn't kill her, did I?" Jarrod asked.

Heath shook his head. "No, you weren't carrying a gun. The sheriff killed her. I never felt any bad feeling over any of it though, not against you or the sheriff or even Archer. Libby brought it all on herself. I just felt bad about that."

Jarrod took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. He looked deeply bothered about what Heath had just told him.

"Jarrod," Heath said.

Jarrod looked up at him.

"Being a lawyer was never easy on you. You got into some pretty nasty situations. You ought know that, while you think about getting back into that profession or not."

"And you got into some of those nasty situations with me," Jarrod figured.

Victoria nodded. "Sometimes. What you should understand right now is that even if what you had to do was hard on any of us, we understood, and in the long run we backed you up."

"We always backed you up, Jarrod, even if it took us a while to do it," Nick said. "Every single time."

"Just remember that," Heath said.

"And we've always been proud of what you did," Audra said.

Jarrod sighed. "I suspect Mr. Archer might be a bit jealous of that, too." He sipped his drink.

Nick and Heath looked at each other and smiled a bit. Nick said, "I think maybe you ought to quit thinking about Archer for now, Jarrod."

"Hm?" Jarrod asked, noticing that Nick was smiling.

Heath said, "You haven't even noticed you're drinking scotch, have you?"

Jarrod looked at his glass. "No, I guess not. Thinking so much about the trial today and Archer, I didn't realize I poured from the wrong carafe."

"You didn't," Nick said with a bigger grin. "Scotch was always your drink. You just poured it without thinking about it."

"Huh," Jarrod said and laughed a little bit. "Some old habits I guess we never really break. We've got more of this, don't we?"

Nick nearly fell on the floor laughing, "Yeah, you kept a stash but you hid it all, and I'll lay odds you don't remember where you put it!"

Jarrod ended up laughing with everyone else. "I can afford to buy more!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jarrod didn't give Archer or even court another thought for a while. He didn't want to tell anyone, but he especially wasn't all that anxious to talk to anyone in the legal community about the trial he'd seen. He was having trouble sorting his thoughts out, and frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to do the digging he would need to do to even ask intelligent questions of Michael Quinn or anybody else in the legal field. He honestly did not know what he wanted.

Instead, he began working with the herd again, although he still was not ready to do any heavy lifting or horse breaking. They were moving the herd into the summer pasture, so he just helped with that. He chose to spend an entire week, day and night, helping to tend the herd – and letting his brain air out. It was good to think uncomplicated thoughts for a while. Maybe the questions rolling around in there would answer themselves.

Questions about the procedures and substance of the law. Questions about his place in the system, if he even had one anymore.

He finally found his way back to the house on a Tuesday morning, tired and dirty and with a beard because he had given up shaving when he first went out. And he knew he smelled like cattle, so he planned to head straight for a bath. He hoped he wouldn't see his mother or sister on the way to the tub, but they were in the kitchen when he came through the back door, heading for the back stairs.

"Oh, Nick, for heaven's sake – " Victoria turned from the stove expecting a different son. "Jarrod! My word – "

"I know, I know," he said and hurried up the stairs. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were cooking. I'll bathe and be down in an hour or so." The last was almost lost as he disappeared upstairs.

Audra laughed, and even Silas, cutting vegetables at the table, had to smile.

Victoria shook her head. "I don't think I've dealt with Jarrod smelling that bad since before the war."

"Oh, he's been on cattle drives since then," Audra said. "You've just forgotten how bad that smell can get."

"I'd just as soon never be reminded again," Victoria said.

Audra gave a glance at the stairs. "Do you think we should tell him about Phil Archer?"

"We'll tell him when he comes down," Victoria said. "Archer has waited for five days. He can wait a bit longer."

Silas brought the bowl of vegetables over to the stove. "How is this, Mrs. Barkley?"

"Perfect, Silas. Put them in the pot."

Silas complied, saying, "I'm not sure what Mr. Jarrod's gonna think about Mr. Archer's visit."

"If he remembered Archer, I know what he'd think," Victoria said. "He'd turn him down flat."

"Are you so sure about that, Mother?" Audra said. "Jarrod always was one to look at the facts of a situation and leave the personalities out of it."

"I'm not sure he'd have felt that way about Phil Archer," Victoria said. "But, since he doesn't remember him – well, I suspect he will try to help the man."

"Maybe he won't since he can't practice law," Audra said.

"That doesn't mean he won't help somehow if he can," Victoria said. "I just hope he doesn't regret it."

About an hour later, Jarrod came back down the back stairs, drawn by the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. He was bathed and shaved now, smelling of bay rum aftershave and not cattle. "Whatever you're cooking smells wonderful," he said and came to the stove. "What is that?"

"A three sisters soup," Audra said. "Corn, squash and beans, with some fresh herbs and onions from the garden. And bread fresh out of the oven, not two hours ago."

"I guess it is almost lunch time, isn't it?" Jarrod said.

"How was your week riding herd?" Victoria asked.

"Very good for my head," Jarrod said. "Helped me get my thoughts in order."

Victoria and Audra looked at each other. Victoria said, "Silas, would you finish this up and call us to the table when it's ready?"

"Of course, Mrs. Barkley," Silas said, and watched Victoria beckon Jarrod into the living room with her and Audra. He gave a big sigh, silently wishing Jarrod the best decision-making he could have given the holes in his memory.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Jarrod asked as he followed the women into the living room and poured himself a bit of scotch.

"Yes," Victoria said and sat down on the settee with Audra. "And I hate to upset you now that you've gotten your thinking in order, but Phil Archer was here a couple days after you left. He looked very unhappy and I had the feeling he wanted to ask for your help on something. He said he'd be back sometime this week."

Jarrod sat down in his "thinking chair." "Why should that upset me? If he needs legal advice, he probably knows that I can't give it."

"Well, I'm not sure what he wanted. Advice of some sort, but I'm not sure it was legal."

"What else could he want of me?" Jarrod asked and took a sip of his scotch.

"Perhaps only your common sense. I didn't ask."

Jarrod did not feel particularly ill at ease about the prospect of talking with Archer. "Maybe I ought to make my way to town this afternoon and see what he wants before he comes out here to bother you again."

"He didn't stay long enough to be a bother," Victoria said.

Audra finally intervened. "I think Jarrod has a good idea, Mother. You weren't very comfortable seeing Mr. Archer when he came."

"Well, then, that settles it," Jarrod said. "I'll go see him after lunch. Chances are I can get rid of him in five minutes."

"Jarrod," Victoria said, "let me just tell you something about yourself you may not have confronted yet. You've never been the kind of man to turn someone down who needs your help just because you don't like him, or just because he's a difficult individual. If Archer has a problem that you can help him with, your inclination will be to help him."

Jarrod eyed his mother. "How do you feel about that?"

Victoria took a deep breath. "Ordinarily it wouldn't bother me, but life for you isn't ordinary yet. I'm not saying don't help him. I'm only asking you to be careful what you do. Give it careful consideration before you say yes or no."

"He didn't give you any idea what he wanted?" Jarrod asked.

"No, he didn't."

"Well, maybe he only wants to know the best way to get to Ely, Nevada."

"Don't take it too lightly, Jarrod. Please."

Jarrod saw she was genuinely concerned. He smiled. "I won't. I promise."

XXXXXXX

The first thing Jarrod had to do when he got to Stockton was find out where Archer's office was. The sheriff or the clerk of the court would know. Still a little skittish about being in the courthouse, Jarrod decided to check the sheriff's office first, and it was a good thing he did.

Jarrod went in and found Sheriff Madden cleaning one of his rifles. "Afternoon, Jarrod," the sheriff said and put things aside. "What brings you in here today?"

"Afternoon, Fred," Jarrod said. "I've been out in the field for a week or so and while I was gone, Phil Archer came to the house for some reason he didn't say. I want to go talk to him, but I can't remember where his office is."

Sheriff Madden made an unhappy face and didn't answer. He just waved Jarrod toward the cell block, and he opened the cell block door.

And there was Phil Archer, in a cell.

Jarrod looked at Archer, and then at the sheriff. With a moan, he turned around and went back into the office.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"What's the Assistant DA doing in there?" Jarrod asked as the sheriff closed the cell block door. Jarrod could hear Archer yelling.

"I tried not to do it, but yesterday I had to haul him in," Sheriff Madden said. "A complaint's been filed against him."

"For what?"

"Do you remember Allen Henderson at all?"

Jarrod shook his head. "No."

"He owns a sizable spread on the way to Placerville," the sheriff said. "Last year Archer prosecuted him for selling stolen horses, but Henderson was acquitted and he was hopping mad. Now, Henderson is claiming Archer assaulted his 15-year-old daughter. I thought it was a bunch of garbage, but Henderson is bent on pursuing it, and when I questioned his daughter yesterday, she was pretty darned credible. Henderson had been at me for almost a week about it. When I talked to his daughter, I couldn't downplay the charge anymore. What did you want to talk to Archer about?"

"Maybe this," Jarrod said. "He came to the house last week but he didn't say what he wanted. Though why he'd want me about this, I don't know. I'm just here to get him out of my mother's hair."

"You want to talk to him?"

"I'd better see what he has to say."

The sheriff opened the cell block door again, and Jarrod went in.

Archer was on his feet at his cell door, gripping the bars like his life depended on it. Jarrod walked closer to him but still stayed out of his reach, reading some body language he didn't like. "Mr. Archer," Jarrod said. "I understand you came to my home, wanting to see me."

"I need your help, Jarrod," Archer said, sounding half desperate, half angry.

"I don't know how I can help you," Jarrod said. "I'm sure you know I've been gone for more than a year, and my memory is damaged, so I don't have any memory of you at all."

"I know that," Archer said.

"Then you also know I can't practice law."

"That's not why I need you. Mike Quinn is going to defend me, but he doesn't have the time or the staff to investigate for me."

"That's what you want me for? To investigate the charge against you? The sheriff can do that."

"But he can't keep confidential what I tell him. You're still admitted to the bar. You're still bound by the confidentiality rules. You can investigate for me and still keep what I tell you confidential."

Jarrod heaved a sigh and leaned back against the bars of the cell on the other side of the block. "All right, let's say I take your case. I'll have to charge you the same as Mike Quinn does. That's not a very good use of your funds."

"I'm desperate, Jarrod! They have me in here on a rape charge, for God's sake!"

"All right, all right," Jarrod said, trying to calm him down.

Archer slumped, struggling to get himself together. "I know you don't remember how we actually were friends in law school. I know you don't know what happened and how that friendship went bad, and I'm sorry about all of it, about your memory, about what happened to our friendship, all of it. And I know I'm asking a lot, but please, work with Mike Quinn on this. Help me get the truth out."

"Did you rape that girl?" Jarrod asked straight out.

"No! I didn't touch her! I've never even been alone with her!"

"Are there any witnesses to support your side of the story?"

"Not that I know of, that's the problem. She's claiming I pulled her into an alley, we were alone together, but it's not true. Talk to Mike Quinn. He'll tell you everything I've told him. Don't turn me down until you talk to him."

Jarrod hesitated, hearing his mother's advice to think hard before he agreed to help, but he thought just talking to Mike Quinn couldn't hurt. "All right. I'll talk to Quinn and get back to you."

Jarrod turned to go out. Archer said, "Thank you, Jarrod. I know I don't deserve your help, but thank you."

Jarrod looked back at him. "Oily" was the word Quinn had used to describe him, and Jarrod decided it was fitting. Maybe he'd be better off just turning him down right now, but somehow, Jarrod couldn't do that. He just nodded and banged on the cell block door.

Sheriff Madden let him out, and as he closed the door again, he asked, "Are you going to help him, Jarrod?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "I can't be his lawyer, but he's got Michael Quinn to do that. Archer wants me to help investigate his side of the story. I'll have to talk to Quinn before I decide, and then I'll probably want to talk to you, if I agree to help him." Then he thought about something. "Tell me, Fred – do you have any idea what happened between Archer and me? I mean, I know he hates me for some reason, but of course, I can't remember why."

"I don't know," the sheriff said. "I never knew. I don't think Archer ever told anybody what he had against you, but chances are it was some overblown something, or maybe it was just because he's the type of man who has to hate somebody."

"Can you point me to Michael Quinn's office?"

For some reason, the sheriff smiled. "Look for the shingle on the left side of the street, before you come to the courthouse."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll see you later, Fred," he said and went out.

XXXXXXX

A few minutes later, Jarrod was waiting in the outer area of Quinn's office, looking idly at the artwork and diplomas on the wall while Quinn's secretary went into the inner office to get him. It was only a moment before she came back out, Quinn right behind her.

Quinn held his hand out. "Good to see you again, Jarrod."

"Michael," Jarrod said and shook the man's hand.

"Come on in."

Quinn ushered Jarrod into his inner office. Jarrod stood a few feet inside the door as Quinn closed it and then headed for his chair behind his desk. It was a handsome office, wood paneled, with a large window overlooking the street one floor below.

"Like my office?" Quinn asked as he sat down and motioned for Jarrod to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Very nice," Jarrod said idly and sat down.

"It was yours."

Jarrod nearly jumped. "Mine?"

Quinn nodded with a smile. "I took over the lease when you – well, when you went missing."

Jarrod looked around. He didn't remember a thing about the place. A big part of his life was spent here, and nothing here was familiar to him at all. Jarrod felt cheated for a moment, but he shook it off.

"It's closer to the courthouse than my old office was," Quinn said. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Phil Archer," Jarrod said.

"Ah," Quinn said. "You've seen him."

"He came to the house, before he got arrested. I wasn't home, so I just now talked to him for a bit in the jail. He wants me to investigate his case with you. He knows I can't practice law, but apparently I had a good reputation for investigating my cases, and he figures I can at least do that and keep his confidences since I'm still admitted to the bar."

"What do you think?"

Jarrod chuckled self-consciously. "I don't know how great an investigator I could be under the circumstances, but Archer says you don't have the staff."

"I don't. And you were an excellent investigator. No reason you shouldn't still be. And the truth is, I could use your help as much as Archer could."

"What's his story, Michael? He says he was never alone with the girl, much less raped her."

"That's what he says. David Coleman is prosecuting the case – I know you don't remember him and probably haven't run into him since you've been back, but he's a good lawyer, and he does have a staff member who's a decent investigator."

"I don't remember what rules may apply while I'm investigating this, IF I investigate it."

"I'll keep you on the straight and narrow. For starters, I just need his alibis run down."

"When did this attack supposedly take place?"

"A week ago last Thursday, here in town. Henderson's daughter says Archer approached her on the street and coerced her into a back alley where he raped her."

"Somebody would have seen that."

"Nobody I've been able to turn up, but Archer says he wasn't there. He has an alibi for the time and place."

"What is it?"

Quinn heaved a sigh. "If you remembered him, it might sound pretty funny. In fact, it might sound pretty funny anyway, and it would actually BE funny if the situation weren't so serious."

"So, what is it?"

"Do you happen to remember what a Saxhorn is?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A Saxhorn. Archer's alibi for the time the attack on Henderson's daughter was supposed to have occurred was that he was home playing the Saxhorn. Jarrod left Quinn's office knowing he was going to have to track down someone who heard him playing the Saxhorn at the time of the attack. First, Jarrod was going to have to figure out what a Saxhorn was and what it sounded like, because he sure didn't remember, and Quinn's description - "sounds like a dying cow" - just wasn't all that helpful.

Jarrod went back to the jail, and in a few minutes, he was having Archer sign a paper that Quinn had drawn up, stating that Jarrod was Archer's attorney and he had permission from Archer to ask questions and go through Archer's home. As soon as Archer had signed and Jarrod pocketed the paper and taken back the sheriff's pen and ink, Jarrod said to Archer, "Michael Quinn tells me that you say you were home at the time the attack took place, and that you were playing the Saxhorn. The first thing you're going to have to help me out with is the Saxhorn. What is it, and what does it sound like?"

"It's like a tuba, but the bell isn't as big," Archer said. "Makes it easier to carry in a marching band."

Jarrod didn't even remember what a tuba or a marching band was, but he could figure it out just by the words. "What does it sound like?"

"Deep, brass sound."

"And you were at home?"

Archer nodded.

"Where do you live?"

"A side road off the main road toward Placerville."

"Your house is the only one out there?"

Archer nodded again.

That wasn't going to help. Who would have heard him playing a Saxhorn if no one lived around him? On the other hand, who would want to live around him if he liked playing the Saxhorn? "Did anyone come by? Did you hear anybody on the road?"

Archer shook his head.

"All right," Jarrod said. "Did anyone see you head home near that time? Or come back in?"

"Not that I know of. I'd gone home for lunch," Archer said, thinking back. "It's not that far, and I go home every day. I play the Saxhorn to ease the stress of the day while I'm there."

"So your staff would at least have seen you head off in that direction."

"Yes, but they wouldn't have seen me get to my house."

"We'll have to take what we can get and see what it builds up to. How do I get to your house and to your office?"

"My office is in the courthouse. To get to my house, take the first side road to the left after you leave the livery stable on the Placerville Road. The side road is about a mile out. My house is the first one you come to, about half a mile down the side road."

Jarrod thought about something that was tickling the edges of his mind. "You live alone, right?"

Archer nodded.

"Do you have any animals that need to be fed – chickens, a dog, horses, anything like that?"

"Two dogs. A cat that can fend for itself. Chickens scratch for themselves too. My horse is at the livery."

"Who's feeding the dogs?"

"My clerk goes out on his lunch hour."

Jarrod sighed. Too bad it wasn't a neighbor, but he asked anyway. "Is there any chance a neighbor might hear it when you play the Saxhorn?"

"The nearest neighbor is a farmer, half a mile further down the side road. If anybody there hears me, I'd be surprised."

"I'll check it out anyway," Jarrod said. "And something else I need from you – I need to get into your house and get a look at that Saxhorn. And is there anything else you can think of I might come across that might help you?"

Archer took a deep breath, thinking. "Nothing I can think of."

"Do I have your permission to enter your house and look around?"

Archer looked unhappy about that prospect.

"If I'm going to help you, you're going to have to trust me with everything in your life," Jarrod said. "I might find something you haven't thought about."

"All right," Archer said with a sigh. "The key is under a flower pot on the ground to the left of the steps as you face the door."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll let you know what I find," he said, and he banged on the cell block door to be let out.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod went to Archer's office and tracked down his clerk, a young man named Trundall. It took only a few sentences for Jarrod to figure out that Trundall did not like Archer very much (did anyone?). Jarrod stayed away from Trundall's dislike for the man as much as he could, at least for now, and focused on what he did and saw when he went to Archer's house to feed the dogs while Archer was in jail.

It turned out that Trundall didn't see much when he went out there, and all he did was feed the dogs and come back. "I don't really like doing much while I'm out there. You never know what Mr. Archer is going to complain about when he gets free. He might have a fit if one flower pot is out of place, you know what I mean?"

Jarrod nodded. "If you think of anything else, let me know, all right?"

Trundall nodded, and Jarrod left him.

When he got out onto the street, Jarrod noticed that the light was beginning to fade and he checked his watch. It was time to pack things in for the day and head home. Maybe he really needed some time to think everything through before he jumped back into this tomorrow.

The sun was down and the sky was getting dark when he got home. He left his horse with Ciego and went into the house, where his family was already gathering before dinner. "Forgive me for being late," he said. "I'll be right down."

He went upstairs, cleaned up and changed into clean clothes. When he came down and poured himself some scotch, Victoria said, "I take it you talked to Mr. Archer."

Jarrod nodded and sat down in his thinking chair. "He hired me."

"Hired you?" Audra said. "But you're not practicing law."

"That's not what he hired me for," Jarrod said. "Michael Quinn is his lawyer, but Quinn doesn't have an investigator. Apparently I had a reputation as a good investigator as well as a good lawyer. Archer hired me to find the facts behind his case."

"What's his case about?" Heath asked.

"He's been arrested for attacking the daughter of a man named Henderson. He says he didn't do it."

"And you believe him?" Nick said. "Look, Jarrod, you don't remember Archer. You don't know what a snake he is. He prosecuted Heath on a murder charge without checking everything out. You're the one who got Heath free."

"And that's why Archer's hired me," Jarrod said. "You're right. I don't remember the man, so whatever history we have is beside the point. He wants me to check his story out, and he'll pay me my attorney's fee to do it. So I'll do it. By the way, does anybody know what a Saxhorn is?"

"Archer plays the Saxhorn," Heath said. "It's some brass instrument, real low tone."

"How loud is it?" Jarrod asked.

"I saw one in a marching band once," Heath said. "It can get pretty loud."

"Would you hear it over a half mile distance if someone was playing it indoors?"

"I don't know about that. Why is it important to your case?"

"It's Archer's alibi. He was home playing the Saxhorn."

"Oh, brother," Nick said. "You better find him some better alibi than that."

"I'll work on it," Jarrod said.

"He is a snake, Jarrod," Nick said. "It could just be that he really attacked that girl."

Jarrod nodded. "If he did, I'll find it out. I'm not just looking for evidence to exonerate him. I'm looking for the truth."

Victoria took on a smile that seemed a little sad to Jarrod.

"What?" he asked her. "Why do you look so unhappy?"

"Oh, I don't mean to," Victoria said. "It's just for a moment there you sounded like a lawyer again."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Comes from talking with Quinn. When you hang around lawyers, you start talking like them, whether you want to or not."

"Well, there's an admission I thought I'd never hear," Nick said. "Lawyers and their lingo."

"Their fancy talk," Heath said, pursed his lips a little and shook his head. "It gets contagious."

"Like the croup," Nick finished.

"All right, all right," Jarrod said, laughing. "No fair abusing me for something I used to be when I can't remember how to fight back."

The rest of the family laughed with him, and he realized this was one of the few times he could laugh about his amnesia. It actually felt kind of good. Now, if it could really serve him well in dealing with Archer, it might be worth having.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next morning, after talking to Archer's nearby neighbor and finding no help at all from him, Jarrod went to Archer's place to confront the Saxhorn. That's what it felt like when he let himself into the house and saw the large brass instrument right there in Archer's living room. He went over to it like it was a living thing that might bite. He ran his hand around the bell and touched the valves before he brought himself to pick it up.

He looked at the mouthpiece for a while. He couldn't remember ever seeing anything like this, but it seemed pretty clear that what you were supposed to do to play this was blow into this mouthpiece and push down the valves to change the notes you played. That was when curiosity got the best of him. He wiped the mouthpiece off with his handkerchief, took a deep breath and blew into it.

He made a terrible sound that he could only relate to a sick dog he ran into once in Nevada, or Quinn's dying cow. He put the thing down, wondering how anyone ever got a pleasant sound out of it and why they bothered. But it was his client's only piece of evidence that might get him off this rape charge, so far at least.

Jarrod nosed around the house, spending some time at the desk in the corner with some of the letters and documents there. Then he spent some time in the kitchen and in the bedroom. He wasn't finding anything useful, but he was trying to remember what he was coming across, in case he needed it later.

He went out the back door and came across the two dogs who were on leashes and tied to one of the supports that held the roof up over the back porch. The dogs raised their heads and barked a few times, but they didn't otherwise move from their shady spots on the porch. Jarrod talked friendly to them for a bit, but then went out into the yard to look around.

He didn't find anything he thought was helpful, but he did come to realize that Archer was not a particularly well-to-do man. In fact, what he seemed like was a very lonely man. There was nothing in this house of anyone other than Archer – no photos of anybody else, not even parents or an old girlfriend. Archer apparently had no one in the world except these two dogs, a cat somewhere out of sight and some chickens in a coop near the barn.

Jarrod stopped, realizing something. This was just like him, just like he was not eight weeks ago in Ely, Nevada, and every other place he could ever remember being. Not so long ago, he had no one, not even the cat, the two dogs and the chickens. There was just a lost and lonely man, moving from town to town and looking for someone, anyone, to give him a life.

Suddenly, Jarrod felt a lot of empathy for this snake of a man nobody cared for. He heaved a big sigh to get rid of the memories he didn't want to have, and he left to go into Stockton, to see if he could find some other alibi or some facts to get Archer off the hook.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod went straight to the jail and found Sheriff Madden doing some paperwork at his desk. "Morning, Fred. Do you have a few minutes for me?"

"Sure, Jarrod," the sheriff said. "Anything the gets me away from this paper is welcome."

Jarrod sat down in a chair near the desk. "When you first checked into the allegations against Archer, did you check around to see who might have seen somebody talk her into that alley? Anything like that?"

Sheriff Madden nodded. "I did, but Henderson's daughter couldn't remember seeing anyone in particular. I did some asking around, but nobody admitted to seeing anything."

"How does a man get a girl into an alley and attack her in broad daylight and no one sees it?"

"That beats the heck out of me, too, and that's why I didn't believe her at first. It wasn't until after I had a very long talk with her that I arrested Archer."

"What did she say that changed your mind?"

The sheriff sighed. "She said that he talked her into the alley by saying he wanted to apologize for prosecuting her father. That he wanted a private word with her because doing it out on the street in public would look like he was strong-arming her. So, she stepped into the alley with him, and he grabbed her and pulled her back behind the smithy's shed and that's where he raped her."

"Smithy? He wasn't there?"

"I talked to him. He'd gone off to the saloon for a drink and a sandwich."

"Did you check for physical evidence? Was she injured? Did the doctor see her?"

"She wouldn't see the doctor, but she did have a couple small bruises on her face and on her arms."

"How about behind the shed? Any evidence there?"

"No, nothing I could find."

"What did she do after Archer supposedly raped her?"

"She says she went home in a buggy she'd come in on, alone."

"No evidence in the buggy?"

"No."

"And nobody saw her go into the alley, or what she was like when she came out?"

"Not a soul. Could be nobody wants to defend Archer or they just don't want to get involved, but nobody said they saw or heard anything."

"What's her name, Fred?"

"Bonnie. Don't go see her, Jarrod. Henderson might just shoot you. He was that mad."

Jarrod nodded.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod went to the saloon for some heavy thinking and some lunch. He had come to know Harry behind the bar pretty well since his return to Stockton, and while Harry was getting his sandwich and scotch together, Jarrod decided to ask a few questions.

"You know Henderson, right? The man who says Phil Archer attacked his daughter," Jarrod said.

"Yeah, he comes in here now and then," Harry said.

"You got any reason to think he's made up that story about his daughter?"

"Sorry, Jarrod, I don't know him well enough to say."

"Heard any talk about it?"

"Not a word, except a few characters say Archer deserves what's coming to him."

Jarrod took a swallow of the scotch Harry had poured. "Archer's not too popular with anybody, is he?"

"Never has been. Can't figure how you were ever friends with him."

"Me, either, but then I don't remember a thing about him one way or the other," Jarrod said. "He's asked me to look into this accusation against him, though."

"You always did have the reputation of being a bloodhound. Put you on the trail of something, and you never gave up until you caught it."

Jarrod chuckled. "Amazing, the things you find out about yourself when you can't remember anything."

"Still nothing shaking loose in the old noggin, huh?"

"Not a thing, Harry, and not a thing shaking loose on Archer, either. I'll eat up and start talking to people on the street. Maybe somebody will own up to knowing something."

"Don't be too disappointed if they don't. Not too many people around here think Archer is worth going out on a limb for."

"Why not? I mean, I know he's thoroughly unpleasant, but would that many people let him go to jail for that?"

Harry leaned toward him. "Let me tell you something you knew before but maybe have forgotten. People don't put themselves out for people too often even when they like them. People just don't like getting involved. If they _don't_ like somebody, it's even worse. It's human nature."

"No, Harry, I don't think I've forgotten that," Jarrod said. "Just can't stop hoping for better, I guess. Listen, if you come to hear anything at all that might mean something on this thing against Archer, good or bad, let me know, huh? Something else I _do_ remember is that this is exactly the kind of place where tongues get loosened up."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle. "I'll let you know, Jarrod."

Jarrod took his drink and sandwich to a table near the window, and he watched people come and go while he ate. Something else about human nature that came to him is that people tend to be creatures of habit. They do the same things at the same times every day. If people were out on the street in front of the bar today, they were probably in the same place yesterday and the day before.

Jarrod checked his watch. He was lunching a little early. If he finished up and went over toward the alley that led back to the blacksmith's shop, he'd probably catch the smithy going off to lunch at this saloon or one of the others. Then he'd probably see the same people on the street near there who were here yesterday, and the day Archer was supposed to have attacked Bonnie Henderson.

Convinced he had nothing to lose by checking his theory out, Jarrod finished eating and went over to the alley that led to the smithy's. The alley ran between the mercantile and the freight depot. Jarrod parked himself at the edge of the freight depot building and waited. It was only a few minutes before the smithy came out of the alley, heading for his lunch and liquor break. Jarrod tipped his hat to him, and then he began to talk to people in the street.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Not one piece of luck at all, good or bad," Jarrod answered his family when they asked if his idea of questioning people near the blacksmith's shop at lunchtime worked out. "People shaking their heads and moving on as fast as they could is all I saw."

Jarrod sipped at his scotch and sat down in his "thinking chair." He sat silently for a moment, hoping the chair would live up to its name and he might have some more ideas.

Nick exchanged looks with his mother. "You know, maybe Heath and I might have more luck learning something at a poker table or two," Nick said.

Heath was still cleaning up and hadn't come down yet. Audra was spending the night with a girlfriend on a nearby ranch and wouldn't be home until morning.

Jarrod shook his head. "I'd rather you stayed out of it, Nick. But if you do happen to hear anything, I wouldn't mind knowing about it."

"You just invited him to nosy in," Victoria said. "That's the latest lesson you need to learn about your brother."

"You know, Mother, you're eating away at all the things I was taking advantage of, what with Jarrod's memory being full of holes," Nick said. "I mean, he's been pulling things on me like suddenly being faster on the draw and more accurate a shot than me. I need to keep a few secrets of my own to pull out of my hat."

Jarrod chuckled. "Well, one thing I've relearned about you, Brother Nick – you don't keep your secrets very well anyway."

Nick looked startled.

"What?" Jarrod asked. "What did I say?"

"You called him 'Brother Nick,'" Heath's voice came, and they saw he was halfway to the refreshment table. "You used to call him that all the time, but you haven't since you came home. It's kinda nice to hear it again."

"Oh," Jarrod said, and then he smiled. "I guess it's just a way I always had with words. It's nice to know I've kept another affectation I didn't know I had. Thank you, Brother Heath."

"My pleasure, Brother Jarrod," Heath said and raised his glass in thanks.

"All right, it's starting to sound like a monastery around here," Victoria said. "Jarrod, is there anything any of us _can_ do to help you with Archer's case?"

"Not really," Jarrod said. "Unless you have any ideas about who else I might talk to, other than the Hendersons. They're out of bounds for me for now."

"I have one idea," Heath said, and everyone looked his way. "Nobody knows a family's secrets like the men who work for them. You need to find a way to talk to a few of their hands. That might shake something loose."

Jarrod nodded. "They were next on my list. I just need to find a way to corner one or two of them. First I have to find out who they are."

"I can help you there," Heath said. "I've played poker with one of their men now and then. Fella name of Pauly Eaves. He tends to come into Harry's on Friday nights."

"How come I don't know him?" Nick asked.

"You don't go into Harry's on Friday nights," Heath said. "Not since that cute little redhead went to work at – " He stopped. He nearly said the name of the place in front of their mother, and that was taboo.

Victoria got the picture. She got up. "Pardon me while I go check on dinner."

After she left and was out of earshot, Heath finished his sentence. " – Big Annie's."

Nick did some quick thinking. "You know, the girls at Big Annie's are likely to know a few of Henderson's men."

"Want us to get you some names, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "No. I'll start with trying to finger Pauly at Harry's – and go to Big Annie's myself if need be. I could stand to check out some of the places in town I haven't been to since I came back." He grinned.

"Just don't tell mother about them," Nick said.

Jarrod laughed. "You think she doesn't already know?"

Nick and Heath both looked uncomfortable.

Jarrod laughed harder. "Gentlemen, it's amazing what you learn when you have to learn things all over again."

XXXXXXX

Come Friday night, Heath went with Jarrod into Harry's to play a little poker. Heath took a look around, but he wasn't seeing who he wanted to see.

"He's not here," he said to Jarrod. "Maybe he'll come later."

"Go play some poker," Jarrod said. "If he doesn't come in, he doesn't come in. You might as well enjoy yourself."

"Where you gonna be?"

"Here, somewhere. If I leave, I'll tell Harry where I've gone."

Heath went off to play poker, while Jarrod went up to the bar and got a beer from Harry. Jarrod checked his watch – it was still fairly early. As he closed his watch, a tall, dark-haired saloon girl came up to him. "Hello, Jarrod Barkley," she said.

Jarrod didn't recognize her. Maybe she knew him from before, or maybe she just knew his name. He said, "Hello. Don't look on this as just a pick-up line, but do I know you?"

She laughed. "You got me off a petty theft charge once a few years ago, but word is you don't have any memories of the old days anymore. I'm Elena. I just moved back to Stockton from Modesto. It's good to see you again, Counselor."

Jarrod smiled. "I'd say the same thing if I remembered, but my past is long gone, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry. That's got to be tough."

"I've pretty much gotten used to it," Jarrod said. "What brings you back to Stockton?"

Elena smiled at Harry, who smiled back and moved on to another customer. "Harry. I wanted out of Modesto – not enough money to live on in that town. Harry offered to take me back."

"Planning to stay for a while, then," Jarrod said.

"Hoping to. I hear you've been looking for information on the charge they have Phil Archer in on."

"Do you have any?"

"Can't say I do. It was Archer who prosecuted me when you got me off."

Jarrod took a swallow of beer. "So you're not very interested in seeing him walk on this charge of attacking a young woman."

"Let's just say I'd tell you if I knew anything, but I'm not going to go out of my way to find out anything to tell you."

"Seems you're not alone in this town."

"You were never a good friend of the man, either."

"Well, that's the funny thing," Jarrod said. "Apparently we went to law school together, and we were friends there. I have no idea why we fell out. Could be I never knew."

"Maybe the Saxhorn got to you."

Jarrod laughed. "You know about the Saxhorn, do you?"

"Who doesn't? You can hear him up on the main road if you happen to go by while he's playing, the thing is so loud."

Jarrod suddenly learned something new. "Really? You've heard it yourself?"

"Not me, but the subject came up the other night right after Archer was taken in," Elena said. "A couple cowboys who work out that way were complaining they could hear it late at night when they were heading home."

Jarrod wasn't getting his hopes up. Hearing it late at night was not the same as hearing it during the day, and it would take a fantastic coincidence for someone to be passing by just as Archer was playing on the day he was accused of attacking Bonnie Henderson. But then – "I wonder how long he plays when he sits down to play?"

"Too long, from what I hear," Elena said. "I guess it's not something you just pick up and noodle on for five minutes at a time."

"Guess not," Jarrod said. "Who were the cowboys who remembered hearing him?"

Suddenly, Elena clammed up. "Oh – just a couple of cowboys. I don't even remember who they were. Sorry."

She wandered off then, and Jarrod knew he'd run up against someone whose tongue had been loosened but not enough. He sighed.

Harry had caught the tail end of the conversation. "I'll bet that isn't the first time you've run into that wall."

"People really don't like Phil Archer, do they?" Jarrod said, already knowing the answer.

Harry just chuckled and went on to another customer.

Time went by. Heath played cards without giving any indication that he'd run into Pauly Eaves. Jarrod nursed a couple beers and chatted idly with a couple of the other working girls at the bar. He was beginning to believe there was no information for him here when a man came up next to him and said, "Don't look my way."

Jarrod wasn't even sure the man was talking to him, but he did not look to see, just in case. He just asked, "Why not?"

"I got something you might want to hear," the man said. "You need to talk to Bonnie Henderson."

Jarrod swallowed some beer. "What will she tell me?"

"I'll leave that to her," the man said. "Just ask her about Pauly Eaves."

There was that name again. Jarrod could feel the man leave. He never did see exactly who it was, and Harry was not nearby to see him, either. But there was a lead, and it involved Pauly Eaves and Bonnie Henderson.

Jarrod waited for a few moments then finished his beer and went over to the poker table where Heath was playing. Between hands, Jarrod said, "Heath, I'm heading home. You staying?"

Heath looked at his pile of money. "No, maybe not, my pile is shrinking too fast. 'Night, gentlemen."

Jarrod and Heath went outside together and were mounted up before Jarrod said, fairly quietly, "Somebody I didn't see told me to ask Bonnie Henderson about her and Pauly Eaves."

"Huh," Heath said. "Pauly wasn't in tonight."

"Guess I'll talk to Michael Quinn and Sheriff Madden tomorrow," Jarrod said. "How much did you lose?"

"Too much," Heath said. "You think you can get it back from Archer as expenses?"

Jarrod laughed as they turned to go home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next morning Jarrod went to Michael Quinn's office first and told him what the voice in the bar the night before had told him about Bonnie Henderson and Pauly Eaves. Quinn said, "Huh," and then looked very thoughtful.

"Have you run into that name before?" Jarrod asked.

"No," Quinn said, "but I always had a feeling that there was more to this than an assault. I couldn't put my finger on anything, but something just said that something else was going on."

"Like what?" Jarrod asked. "If I'm gonna look into this, I ought to know."

"A while back I read about a case up in Sacramento," Quinn said. "Young girl of about 16 claimed to have been raped, and it turned out she was sleeping consensually with a boy about 18. She blamed somebody else because she didn't want her father to shoot her boyfriend. This whole thing with Archer just struck the same chord with me, but I have absolutely nothing to base it on, and I didn't want to color your investigation. But now – "

"Now it might be worth looking into, because it looks like there was never any incident of any kind in that alley," Jarrod said. "Heath plays poker with this Eaves guy some Friday nights. Didn't see him last night, though. I'm wondering if I can get the sheriff out there to talk to Bonnie Henderson again. See if she'll shake loose if he asks her about Eaves straight out."

"Might work. She won't give if you go out, that's for sure. Talk to Fred. See if he'll do it."

Jarrod got up. "I'll go do that. I'll see if he'll question Eaves, too."

"If you think you need to, there's nothing to stop you from talking to Eaves, if you can get him away from the Hendersons."

Jarrod nodded. "Let me talk to Fred first, see what he can come up with."

"Let me know. But don't let Archer know anything yet. He'll be a pest about it."

XXXXXXX

"I'll talk to the Hendersons about it," Sheriff Madden say, "and this Eaves fellow if I can find him. Don't you go talking to them just yet. Better if they fess up to anything to me."

Jarrod nodded. "That was my thinking too, though Quinn tells me I can talk to Eaves if you don't have enough luck."

"Well, he's looking at it from the legal standpoint. I'm looking at the best way to get the truth out."

Jarrod nodded again. "There's the chance this wasn't consensual. That if Eaves is involved, he might have actually raped her."

Sheriff Madden made a face as he strapped on his gun. "I don't know why Bonnie Henderson would protect Eaves if he raped her. Blaming Archer I can understand – Henderson detests the man for prosecuting him."

"If Eaves threatened her if she told – " Jarrod said.

"Maybe," the sheriff said. "You never know what a young girl is going to do if she's afraid."

"I'm gonna head back out to the ranch," Jarrod said. "I got some harnesses to mend out there. I'll come back into town later this afternoon and see what you've found out."

"All right," the sheriff said as they went out together. The sheriff yelled to his deputy coming back from making rounds, asking him to keep an eye on Archer and the office. As the sheriff mounted up, he said to Jarrod, "If this doesn't lead anywhere, you're gonna have to work harder. Archer's trial date is coming up."

"I know," Jarrod said.

XXXXXXX

The leather on the harnesses Jarrod was going to fix were beyond repair, so he replaced it and had the whole chore done by early afternoon. He started inside to clean up and get some lunch, but ran into Nick and Heath coming in on the way. Jarrod waited for them.

"A bit early today, aren't you?" Jarrod asked.

"Things are quiet out there," Nick said as he dismounted and he and Heath handed their horses off to Ciego. "Thought we'd get some lunch and head into town for some supplies we need. Ciego, would you get a wagon ready?"

"Si, Senor Nick," Ciego said and took Nick's and Heath's horses away.

"I'll go with you," Jarrod said. "I need to check in with Fred Madden about some things."

"Are you getting anywhere with Archer's case?" Heath asked.

"Maybe," Jarrod said as they went into the house.

They all greeted their mother and sister in the kitchen, then headed up the back stairs to clean up. In 20 minutes or so, lunch was on the table and they were eating together, idly chatting about this and that until Jarrod said he needed to go into town himself.

"Again?" Victoria asked. "You just got back."

"Something might shake loose on Archer's case today," Jarrod said. "I have to see the sheriff."

"Expecting any trouble?" Heath asked.

"Not really," Jarrod said.

"I trust you'll all be home for dinner," Victoria said.

"Fully expect to be, but if I'm not, I'll send word with Nick and Heath," Jarrod said.

A loud knocking at the front door sent Silas whizzing past them and into the living room. A few moments later, he was back, saying, "Mr. Jarrod, that was the sheriff's deputy. The sheriff needs you to come into town right away."

Jarrod wiped his mouth and got up. "Sounds like something shook loose."

Nick and Heath eyed each other and then also got up. "Think we'll be right behind you," Nick said.

They all kissed their mother and their sister on the way out the door. Victoria and Audra were left looking at each other, exchanging just a bit of concern. But they let it pass, Audra saying, "Just another day at the Barkley ranch."

That made Victoria smile.

XXXXX

Jarrod made it into town on horseback more quickly than his brothers, who were riding the wagon. Jarrod dismounted and hitched his horse outside the sheriff's office and hurried in. Sheriff Madden was there behind his desk. He got up in a hurry when Jarrod came in.

"We were right," Sheriff Madden said. "Bonnie Henderson let go of that story of hers when I started asking about Pauly Eaves."

"What did she say?"

"Well, it took a little bit of prodding and some threats by her father, but turns out she was letting Pauly Eaves have his way with her, and she's gotten herself with child. Bonnie made up this story about Archer to protect Eaves. She was pretty convincing, too. Poor girl really fell for Eaves but it looks like he didn't want anything but a cute little girl to play with."

"Did you arrest him? She's only 15 – even if it was consensual, can't he be prosecuted?"

"That's the problem. I can't find him. He wasn't around when I got there. They said he was out on the range."

"He'll bolt when he finds out you were there talking to the Hendersons."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I sent one of my deputies out the range where he's supposed to be, but he came back and said Eaves hadn't been out there all morning. Nobody knows where he is now or if he's gotten wind that he's in trouble."

"Have you checked around town? He wasn't in here last night. He might just have come in here for a little fun and not told anybody."

"I've got my deputy looking. If he's here, I'm betting he's holed up out of sight at Big Annie's, enjoying the afternoon."

"Something like that would be in our favor. Nick and Heath should be here anytime. We can keep scouring for him, but if he's not here – if he's just run – "

"I'll have to put out a poster on him, but in any event, Archer's in the clear. I'm gonna wait a bit before I let him out. I don't want him getting in the way of us finding Eaves if he's come into town."

Jarrod nodded. "A little more time in the cell might actually do him some good, but I'd better at least tell him things lok promising. Let me in?"

The sheriff let Jarrod into the cell block. Archer jumped up from his cot. He was beginning to look downright surly, and afraid. Jarrod said right away, "You can relax a little bit. I'm making some headway."

"How? What's happening?" Archer asked.

"I can't really say yet. Still got somebody I need to track down, but things are looking better for you than they did. Just sit tight. I might get lucky today."

"You gotta give me more than that, Jarrod!"

"Archer, I can't yet. I will as soon as I can, but for now you just need to calm down and know that I'm getting somewhere. All right?"

Archer eased up, but he said, "I'm scared, Jarrod."

"I know you are," Jarrod said. Then something in the look on Archer's face made him suspicious. "Is there anything you want to tell me that we haven't talked about?''

Archer hesitated but then shook his head. "Nothing I can think of. But I didn't rape that girl. I swear it!"

"I believe you," Jarrod said. "Just give me a little more time, and if there's anything at all you need to tell me..."

"Well, maybe one thing."

Archer waved Jarrod closer and told him something in a barely audible, very embarrassed voice.

Jarrod nearly flipped. "Why didn't you tell me or Quinn or the sheriff that before now?"

"How could I? Could you tell anybody something like that?"

Jarrod sighed, understanding but exasperated with his client. Archer had told him something about himself that was embarrassing and painful. "I won't be telling anybody unless we need it, but I don't think we're going to need it. If we do, though, Phil - you gotta use it."

Archer nodded, hanging his head.

"Sit tight," Jarrod said. "I'll talk to you later."

Jarrod hit the cell block door, and Sheriff Madden let him out. As the sheriff closed the door again, Jarrod asked, "What about Henderson? Has he come into town looking for Eaves?"

"Not that I know of. I told him to stay at his place and let me do my job, and Bonnie was pretty upset, so maybe he'll stay with her long enough for us to catch up on where Eaves is."

Jarrod sighed, nodding again, then he looked at the sheriff with a slight smile. "Are things around here always this lively?"

"No, thank heaven," Sheriff Madden said, "but somehow you Barkleys seem to make things happen when it's been too quiet."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jarrod and Sheriff Madden left his office just as Nick and Heath were pulling up to the mercantile about half a block down the street. Sheriff Madden said, "I'm gonna go check Big Annie's and see if Eaves might be there."

"If you wait a second, we can go with you," Jarrod said, heading toward his brothers. "Do you know what Eaves looks like?"

"No," the sheriff admitted.

Jarrod said, "Heath does."

The sheriff went along with Jarrod, and they caught up to Nick and Heath as they were hitching up the wagon. "What's the word?" Nick asked.

"We got Archer off the hook," Jarrod said. "Pauly Eaves is on it, but we can't find him. I don't know if he's found out he's in trouble, or he's just here in town on an unauthorized leave. Heath, we need you to help see if we can spot him here in town. The rest of us don't know what he looks like."

"Little guy, wiry, left-handed, wears a dark hat," Heath said.

"We're gonna check out Big Annie's," Sheriff Madden said. "Can you come along?"

"We can get the supplies later," Nick said.

The Barkley brothers all followed Sheriff Madden to the edge of town where Big Annie's place of business was located. As the people inside noticed the sheriff was coming, a few men spilled out the back door. Heath took a look but shook his head. Pauly Eaves wasn't one of them.

The four of them went inside together. Big Annie was there in the parlor with three of her girls. Big Annie had a big smile for the sheriff.

"Hello, Sheriff," she said. "What brings you here today?"

"Relax, Annie, I'm not after you," Sheriff Madden said. "Looking for a man named Pauly Eaves."

"Well," Annie said, "you know I don't insist on knowing a man's name when he comes in here."

"Young guy, little and scrawny and left-handed," Heath said. "He may have raped a young girl."

Annie looked concerned now. She considered, and then she said, "He's upstairs. Ought to be down any time. I'd appreciate it if you wait until he leaves here before you talk to him."

Sheriff Madden nodded. "We'll be outside."

The men all left, but once outside, the sheriff said, "Heath and I will take the front. Jarrod, you and Nick take the back and sing out if somebody who looks like Eaves comes out that way. We'll escort him out back if he comes out this way, so we can have a private chat with him in the alley."

Jarrod nodded and went around to the back door with Nick. Once they had parked themselves there, Jarrod checked his revolver to make sure it was loaded. "Expecting trouble?" Nick asked.

"I always do," Jarrod said. "Keeping ready always worked well for Dakota."

Nick chuckled a little.

"What's that about?" Jarrod asked.

"Just wondering how much of Dakota you're going to keep once you reinvent Jarrod Barkley. I kinda like the guy."

It was Jarrod's turn to chuckle. "Yeah, I kinda like him, too."

A man came sneaking out the back, but Nick recognized him. "Hi, there, Stanley," he said to the man who ran the freight depot.

"Oh – " the man said, startled. "Hi, Nick."

"Just move on, Stanley. We're not after you."

"See you around," Stanley said and hurried down the alley.

A couple minutes later, a scrawny young man wearing his gun on the left came out of the back door. He stopped dead when he saw the Barkley brothers.

"Hey, there, Pauly Eaves!" Jarrod said, loudly enough for Heath and the sheriff to hear him.

"Hey," Eaves said. "How do you know me?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure," Jarrod said. "Holes in my memory and that sort of thing. But we did want to talk to you for a few minutes."

Eaves looked from Jarrod to Nick and then at the sheriff and Heath as they came around the corner from the front of the building. "What about?" he asked, moving slightly to his left, away from the men trying to gather around him.

"Bonnie Henderson," Sheriff Madden said. "I had a chat with her this morning – "

Eaves bolted, dashing off to his left. Nick made a grab for him, but the boy was fast and Nick missed and stumbled. He cursed and started to run after him, as Heath ran past him.

But the boy was really fast, dashing around the edge of Big Annie's and across the street, into another alley.

Even Heath couldn't keep up with him. Nick had recovered his balance and wasn't far behind Heath, and Jarrod was only a few paces behind them.

They spotted Eaves running like mad, dashing around the corner of a building across the street. They went after him and spotted him in the alley, cornering yet another building and heading back out into the street. In a second he was running down the boardwalk heading back the way he'd come, out of town.

When the Barkleys made it around the corner after him, they heard screaming and saw him pushing everyone he came across out of his way, man and woman and child alike. The Barkleys took to the street itself, avoiding the people. A bigger but older man, the sheriff came running more slowly behind them, yelling for everyone to get down.

Eaves ran into Harry's saloon and dashed for the back door, but Harry was coming through that door and got in his way. Eaves pushed him down, but Harry, being a very heavy man, blocked the door when he fell. Eaves turned and tried to run back out the front, but it was too late.

Nick and Heath started in through the front doors, but ducked when Eaves began to fire at them. Heath landed flat on his stomach on the floor, his gun skidding away from him, just as Jarrod came in through the doors. Nick fired at Eaves, but Eaves had ducked behind the bar. Jarrod dove on the floor near Heath, scrambling to where he could see behind the bar and firing on Eaves before Eaves could get a shot off at him. Jarrod's improved accuracy paid off. Eaves rolled over, his gun going off twice into the bottles behind the bar before he lay still.

Nick hustled over to him, keeping low and on the other side of the bar until he rounded the end. Eaves lay still on the floor there. Nick kicked his gun away, but Eaves did not move. Nick turned his attention to Harry, to help him get up.

"You okay, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said as Nick helped him to his feet.

"Nick!" Heath called, his voice somewhat soft. He was with Jarrod on the floor at the other end of the bar.

Nick ran over. "You hit?" he asked Heath.

Heath shook his head, but then he looked down at Jarrod.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jarrod was on his haunches on the floor, near the end of the bar, his bone-handled gun on the floor and Heath's walnut-handled gun in his right hand. Jarrod was staring, totally fixated on Heath's gun and on the gold eagle in the handle.

Nick bent down beside him. "Jarrod? You all right?"

Jarrod just stared at Heath's gun.

"Jarrod – " Heath said.

Jarrod gaze was firm on Heath's gun, and finally, still staring at it, he said, "I gave you this gun. For your birthday, right before I went up to Rockville, I gave you this gun."

Nick and Heath smiled at each other. "You remember that?" Nick asked.

Jarrod slumped, his hand and the gun falling to the floor, his head bowed. And he began to shake, and then sob like a baby.

Nick and Heath reached for him, not understanding why he was crying when something miraculous and wonderful had just happened. "Pappy, you remembered that!" Nick said.

"Nick – Nick, Heath – " Jarrod looked up, his face as wet as they'd ever seen it. "I remember _everything_. Nick – I remember – Nick – "

Jarrod collapsed in tears. Nick quickly took him up in his arms and held onto him, falling into tears with him.

It was a long time before Jarrod looked up again. "I remember everything," he said. "Everything – growing up, that snotty little brat who kept following me around – "

Jarrod laughed, and Nick and Heath laughed too, but the tears still kept coming.

"Everything," Jarrod said and dissolved into sobs again. More than a year of fear and grief he didn't even realize he'd been holding onto came pouring out. "I remember everything. I remember everything."

Nick held tight to him as he just continued to sob and shake. Heath saw the sheriff and Harry looking down at them.

"You all right?" the sheriff asked.

Heath nodded. He spoke very quietly. "We got our brother back."

XXXXXX

Jarrod stared at Heath's gun in his hand again, this time in the living room of the family home as the day was winding down. Everything was suddenly new again, everything he saw, everything he touched in this house he'd grown up in and now could remember completely. He kept falling into tears, but no one let him cry alone. Then he'd begin to laugh, and no one let him laugh alone.

"After the shooting stopped in Harry's, I banged my arm on the edge of the bar and lost hold of my gun and picked this one up by mistake. It was the eagle on this handle - " Jarrod explained. "I've been seeing eagles and dreaming about eagles for a year now and never knew why. I should have looked at this gun weeks ago, Heath."

Heath shook his head as Jarrod wept again. "You couldn't have known, and maybe it wouldn't have brought your memories back if you'd looked at it before."

"Dr. Merar said it was probably the stress of shooting that man that made everything come back when you saw Heath's gun," Audra said.

"Maybe," Jarrod agreed, handing Heath's gun back to him. He looked up at his family. These faces were all new again, just like everything in this house, new but genuinely familiar again. He shook his head in glorious disbelief. "I thought I'd never remember again. I thought it was gone forever, and I'd made peace with that, but – oh, it is so wonderful to have myself back again. I can't tell you how wonderful it is."

"It is wonderful," Victoria said, her own tears running down her face. "But having yourself back isn't quite all that's happened, is it?"

Jarrod shook his head. "No. I'm not the same man I was. I've spent a lot of time rebuilding myself from scratch, so this new Jarrod Barkley is part the old Jarrod Barkley, part the one I reinvented, part Dakota. Oh," he said suddenly, falling deeper into his "thinking chair" but smiling a bit. "I'm getting complicated."

Nick handed him a glass of scotch. "Don't worry about it. You always were complicated. Figuring you out has always been a lot of fun for the rest of us."

Jarrod laughed. He wiped the wetness from his face and said, "Somehow I don't think you really mean that."

"Yeah, actually I do," Nick said, "and since you're going to be part Jarrod, part Dakota and part reinvented Jarrod, it looks like we're gonna have a lot more fun."

"There's more you're going to like, too. You know what else this means now, don't you?"

"What?" Nick asked.

"I remember the law, too. I can start practicing law again, tomorrow if I want to. I remember everything I thought I'd lost forever." He fell into tears again.

Heath looked up at Nick, rubbing the wetness from his own face and said, "That'll make Nick happy. Now you can do all the deeds and the easements and the lawsuits, just like you did before."

Jarrod said, "I'll do it happily, Nick."

"I'll remember you said that," Nick said.

Jarrod looked at his glass of scotch and drank it down. "I have to thank you, all of you, for what you've helped me through over the last couple months. I never could have made it without you. I'd never have found myself without you. You took in a stranger who didn't know you, and you helped me crawl back into a life I didn't know I had. I don't know how - " He broke into tears yet again, then suddenly got up. "All right, enough. I've cried more in the last 8 hours than I have in the past 20 years, and that includes the war I can now remember. Time to stop."

Victoria got up, too. "Time to get some rest, all of us," she said. She went to her oldest, put her arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "Tomorrow is a new day."

Jarrod smiled at her. "Yes, Lovely Lady, it is, and isn't it wonderful?"

Epilogue

Jarrod was heading for the library to work on some easements for Nick when he heard the knock at the door. Silas was coming down the stairs and headed to answer it, but Jarrod said, "I'll get it, Silas."

"Thank you, Mr. Jarrod," Silas said and headed for the kitchen instead.

Jarrod opened the door and was startled to see Phil Archer there.

"Jarrod, may I come in?" Archer asked.

Jarrod opened the door to him. "Come on into the library."

"No, I won't take up much of your time." He took his wallet out and gave Jarrod several bills. "For your fee. Money doesn't say enough, I know. I'd be in terrible trouble if not for you. I wanted to thank you in person."

Jarrod accepted the money with a nod.

"I hear your memory has come back to you," Archer said.

"Yes," Jarrod said, "and I suppose I have you to thank in part for that. Chasing down the man who really hurt that girl is what snapped me back to my senses."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm happy to hear everything's come back to you. And about that thing I told you while I was in jail - "

Jarrod realized that the secret that Archer told him might be a big reason for his sour personality, but Jarrod smiled. "Phil, I promised to keep your confidences, and I'll keep that one safe."

"Thank you, Jarrod. For everything." Archer offered his hand.

Jarrod took it. "You know, Phil, what hasn't come back to me is why you and I fell out after law school. Did I ever know why that happened, or have you always kept that to yourself?"

Archer let go the handshake and looked at the floor. "I never told you why. To this day, I haven't been able to put it into words. I suspect it's – " He hesitated. "It's something that's difficult for me."

Jarrod eyed him. "Is it me you've been jealous of, or my family, or maybe both?"

The wall that had been around Archer all these years, the wall that had almost moved up out of the way, came crashing back down. He looked up, looking almost angry. "It's not jealousy, Jarrod. It's not that," he said, and he tipped his hat awkwardly and left.

Jarrod watched him mount up before he closed the door again. He was as confused as he ever was about Archer. If something had happened between them to bring Archer to this attitude, Jarrod had no idea what it was, but just feeling Archer's anger again made Jarrod think that was one memory he wasn't that anxious to get back anyway.

Victoria came in from the kitchen. "Was that Phil Archer I just heard at the door?"

Jarrod showed her the money Archer had given him. "He thanked me and paid his bill."

Victoria shook her head. "He's such a strange man. I can't fathom what he has against you, or us."

"I thought he might tell me there for a minute, but he didn't. And if it was something that's happened between us at some point, that's one memory I haven't gotten back."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Victoria said. "If he wants you to know, he'll tell you. And if he doesn't, that's his weight to carry around, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Jarrod agreed and pocketed his fee. "I'm off to the library to write up some easements for Nick. I think he's happier than anyone that I've regained the ability to practice law."

"We knew he would be. I'll bring you some coffee while you work."

Jarrod smiled. "It's nice to remember all the times you've done that, too."

"Funny, isn't it?" Victoria said. "Remembering things over again - it's like living them for the first time."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Jarrod gave her a peck on the cheek. "Back to work!" he said happily and headed back to the library, with a kick to his step.

The End


End file.
